Disturbia
by FetishistInMotion
Summary: What happens to a mind corrupted by a killing curse? How do the Dursley's cope raising a child with mental health issues? How does the wizarding world feel about their savior being 'broken? This story will explore these topics. Not really planning anything, may or may not have mature content later. Ignorant yet not evil Dursley's, mentor Snape, paranoid/anxiety disorder Harry
1. Chapter 1

**WARNING:**

 **I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I profit from this story. Not sure the exact direction this story is heading, maybe mature themes entailed. I thought about this story as I was yet again psycho-analyzing myself. Pretty sure I have paranoid personality disorder, at least at the moment. Evaluating all of my own idiosyncrasies, I thought what would the wizarding world make of a savior who is 'broken', how would the Dursley's handle a child with mental instabilities, what happens to a mind that's been corrupted by the killing curse? While the Dursley's certainly didn't welcome Harry with open arms, Petunia enjoys the attention she gets for being the care giver to such a 'frail' child (some of it is exaggerated, making her have a munchausen by-proxy type feel), while Vernon is still an ignorant bigot yet feels protective of Harry due to his fragility, making Vernon feel strong. As for Dudley, at first he is jealous and spiteful, then his parents encourage him to be protective of his weak cousin, giving him a purpose. Mostly ignorant but not evil Dursley's, mentor Snape possibly.**

In a dilapidated shack on a godforsaken hunk of rock in the middle of the sea, a small boy cowered in fear. He was tucked away in the minuscule coat closet off the living area, knobby knees drawn up to his scrawny chest.

Harry had been much too anxious to sleep near the fire with his family. He felt insecure in the open area, needing to be somewhat boxed in to be comfortable. The creaking and groaning of the old shack scared him, causing a whimper to escape pursed lips. He was struggling to remember his breathing exercises, attempting to purse his lips while breathing to avoid a full blown breakdown.

While the unknown, unfriendly shack wasn't ideal, it was better than the alternative. Harry remembered back to the letters that caused this whole mess. In his 10, nay 11 now, years of existence he had never received a single piece of mail. That morning nearly a week ago, he had been instructed by uncle Vernon to fetch the post. Upon sorting the stack, he stopped abruptly at seeing his name on a thick vellum envelope. Mr. Harry Potter, cupboard under the stairs, Number 4 Privet Drive, Surry he read. After a moments pause, he reminded himself to breath, slowly re-entering the breakfast nook and approaching his gargantuan uncle.

Edging up to Vernon, Harry leaned in and whispered, "They've got us under surveillance". He slightly tilted the envelope towards the now alert man, allowing him a glimpse of the addressee.

Mustache twitching in agitation, Vernon snatched the envelope, crumpling it into his pocket. "Damnable freaks cant leave well enough alone," he muttered in condemnation.

Tittering in anxiety, Petunia wrung her hands, "What shall we do, Vernon?"

"Ignore them," he grunted, proceeding to return to his rasher of bacon and half dozen eggs.

The next day there was a dozen letters, and the day after two dozen. Everyday proceeding the first, Harry's anxiety mounted higher and higher. The dilemma came to a head when the house was flooded with letters, causing Vernon to rent them this charming cottage by the sea.

The flimsy front door crashing to the worn floorboards with a booming thud brought the bespectacled boy out of his reverie. A giant shadowed figure loomed in the entryway, causing Harry to panic, muscles tightening, arms clutching harder around his knees as his overwhelmed mind began conjuring the worst scenarios from his paranoid imaginings. As the Dursley's all clamored around the rifle pointed at the doorway, Harry gasped out shallow, labored breaths. Vision tunneling, he barely caught the bearded monster bending uncle Vernons rifle into a twisted mass of useless metal.

"Wer's 'Arry?" Demanded the ruffian in a thickly accented timbre that sounded like so much gravel, peering around for the lad.

"He's probably hiding, scared senseless I'm sure," barked out an indignant Vernon.

"Why'd he be scared, I've known 'im since he was a wee bairn," questioned Hagrid in confusion.

"He's mental, this would set him off on an episode for certain," bluntly stated Vernon in exasperation.

"He has anxiety problems and is probably in a right state," Petunia informed more delicately, heading to her nephews likely safe space, a small coat closet on the far side of the room. Reaching the slatted wooden door, she cautiously reached in and began soothingly patting the boys trembling form, attempting to reassure him.

Hagrid attempted to step towards the closet, causing Vernon to sputter in rage and step towards the closet protectively, "You just leave him alone now, he doesn't need you scaring him worse."

Guiltily shuffling, Hagrid watched as Petunia turned away from the open closet door, a small body clinging to her like a life line, heading towards a rocking chair to help soothe the still trembling boy. Settling herself and her burden into the creaky old rocker, Petunia proceeded to whisper reassurances against a head of long, unruly black hair as she gently rubbed Harry's back and rocked.

"May as well sit down and get this mess worked out," offered Vernon begrudgingly, heading to a threadbare divan his son was hiding behind.

"Didn't mean to startle poor 'Arry," Hagrid mumbled apologetically.

"What did you think would happen, harassing normal folks and barging in where it's not warranted?" Demanded Vernon.

"Dumbledore asked me ter come fetch 'Arry to school. Said somin 'bout 'is muggle relatives not givin 'him 'is letter," admitted the half giant.

"Those letters scared the lad out of what little wits he has," fumed Vernon.

"He has PPD, with severe anxiety to complicate the matter. Its what your lot would call a 'muggle disorder'," Petunia scoffed lightly. "He assumed you magicals had our home under surveillance. Then the continuous barrage of letters had the poor boy having a breakdown and refusing to come out of the broom cupboard, his safe space," informed the emotionally exhausted caregiver.

"We had to promise him we would find a quieter, safer place without threat of being drowned in a torrent of parchment," she stated quietly as Harry finally began to calm, peeking over nervously at the giant man settled tentatively on a hazardously rickety armchair, pink flowered umbrella perched across tree trunk legs.

"I 'spose tha might be a tad scary to the lad," Hagrid admitted, "M' sorry, 'Arry, didna mean to scare yah. Here on Hogwarts business I am. Vera important yah get yer school things an be off to the train an such."

"The boy doesn't want to attend your 'school'," Vernon sneered. "He's scared out of his mind at your mere appearance, what makes you think he would want to be stuck in a school with your kind?"

"Besides," Petunia interjected, "He has special needs that need met, our Harry is very delicate in health and does not take well to change."

"If Bumbledee or whatever his name is wants my nephew to attend his school he needs to meet with us to discuss how Hogwash will meet those needs better than his current school, Vernon ordered snidely.

Sighing in defeat, Hagrid stood abruptly, knocking his boulder sized head on an exposed beam.

"Ach, I guess I'll let 'im know. Sorry again, didna mean to startle yah 'Arry, happy birthday," Hagrid mumbled discontentedly, leaving a smashed bakery box on the trestle table before heading to the doorway, pulling the detached door back into the frame as he exited.

Clambering out of his aunts lap, Harry quickly approached the box, peeking under the lid. A very squashed cake lurked menacingly in the box. Eying the 'cake' warily, he quickly deposited the confection in the rubbish bin. It was probably laced with LSD.

"Let's get some rest. We'll head back home at a decent hour," grumbled Vernon, yawning as he headed back to his pallet by the fire.


	2. Chapter 2

**WARNING:**

 **I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I profit from this story. Not sure the exact direction this story is heading, maybe mature themes entailed.**

Harry anxiously picked at the buttons on his oxford shirt. Today was the day the Hogwash Headmaster was coming to negotiate with his family about his schooling. He knew it wasn't really called Hogwash, but he felt better calling it that even if it was just inside his head.

He was in his safe space. Aunt had painted it a soothing blue colour and put in a nice squishy bean bag chair. There was a cork board with swatches of textiles with differing textures for Harry to pet to help soothe him when he was feeling anxious. He had some molding sand to squish in his hands.

When things got really terrible Aunt would bathe him with the aromatherapy oils and rub the soothing ointment on afterwards. His counselor had suggested it in lieu of mood altering substances. Very rarely had Harry gotten to the point where he had to be sedated, otherwise known as "the Point of No Return" where he would black out.

He supposed he should come out of hiding. He crept out of his safe place and sat upon the settee in the sitting room. Dudley came and settled his girth beside him on the cabbage rose covered divan.

"It's gonna be okay, Harry, if those fruits don't give into our demands we won't let them take you to school there. You know dad is one of the top negotiators at Grunnings," Dudley reassured, or rather attempted to while bragging. He patted his little cousin on the back gently.

Harry cracked a weak smile at the attempt at comfort. He was used to Dudley's obtuseness.

Petunia rushed about, cleaning habitually. Harry was certain she had what Dr. Primus, his counselor, called Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.

Turning from dusting the family photos picturing the happy foursome, she hurried towards the boys, straightening collars and slicking down cowlicks. Hearing the kettle whistling, she hustled into the kitchen to set the tea tray up.

Vernon pulled into the driveway in his company car, home early especially for the meeting to support his nephew. He was soon lumbering his largesse into his La-Z-Boy, telling his attentive family about his work day.

Harry kept his ears perked for any abnormal sounds in the vicinity. Soon he heard what sounded like a car back firing, and a few minutes later an upbeat knock on the door. Petunia, ever the perpetual hostess, straightened her pearls over the neckline of her a-line frock as her kitten heels clicked to the entry way.

Gracefully opening the door, Petunia stopped abruptly and stared a bit, stopping her hand on its unconscious ascent towards her forehead.

Albus Dumbledore stood on her front step in all his grey bearded glory, wearing the most outrageously loud paisley pantsuit anyone had ever seen on their grandmother in the 60's. She quickly hurried him inside lest he remain out where the neighbors could witness him for much longer.

"Petunia dear girl, so lovely to see you again," Dumbledore greeted jovially, gently patting her captive hand. Although Petunia would never be a great beauty like Lily, she had become a handsome woman. He could somewhat see the horse-like resemblance around the gum-to-tooth ratio, as James had mentioned in the past, however, she was rather stately. Personally, he thought she had a young Margaret Thatcher thing going on.

Upon his entry into the mundane home, Albus witnessed an overly large, mustachioed walrus wearing a poorly tailored suit, a rather portly swine with blonde toupee, and a rather frail young boy with large, scared green eyes hiding behind knobby knees. His eyes softened perceptibly as he spied young Harry. He didn't much favor James or Lily in Albus' opinion. Harry had rather lengthy, curling black hair. While he did have Lily's green eyes, they were slightly upturned, belying his Black heritage. Along with his fine bone structure, Albus thought he rather looked a lot like his grandmother, Dorea.

"Hello Vernon, Dudley, Harry. My name is Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am here today to discuss appropriate accommodations to ensure young Harry may attend school starting this year," Albus charmingly informed, shaking hands and settling on a mauve wing backed chair.

As negotiations started, Harry began taking notes in his notebook. It helped him compartmentalize and keep track of the questions he wanted to ask later. Dr. Primus had suggested it.

"Harry will need a space to himself for sleeping and privacy, to get away from everyone. I understand it isn't normally done, however, that's what he needs. With his PPD and anxiety he has a lot of distrust and needs a place he can let his guard down. He will not be able to sleep with others in the same room," Petunia stated.

"If he is sorted into Slytherin it wouldn't be an issue," Dumbledore lost a bit of twinkle. The Slytherins only had two students per dorm, it wouldn't be troublesome to place one student to himself. He had been hoping young Harry would sort Gryffindor like his parents, yet it didn't seem to be the case. "If he gets sorted into one of the other houses we will work something out. There are many rooms going unused in the castle."

"Also, he will need to be allowed to leave classes, maybe even the school if he has an anxiety attack and needs to be alone or requires treatment. He has a counselor he sees for treatment. When things are going well he may see Dr. Primus once every other week or once a month. With all the extreme changes he most likely will need to be coming home once or more a week for us to take him to appointments until he gets settled and a routine down. Sometimes his anxiety attacks are so bad he blacks out and goes unresponsive, requiring medical treatment. He calls this 'the Point of No return'," informed Petunia, rubbing Harry's back soothingly as he tensed a bit.

Dumbledore stared at him the entire time, it was discomfiting.

"That can easily be arranged. We can have your home set up for floo access," Dumbledore twinkled.

"I know how cruel children are, Dumbledore," Petunia stared him down with hard eyes, "If other children are bullying my Harry I want you to take care of it. He won't have his family there to protect him."

"Children will do that Petunia, you know how they are," Dumbledore stalled, flapping his hands in a lackadaisical manner.

"I want you to make a vow Lily told me about. To protect Harry. His psyche is fragile enough. Children bullying and harassing him is not good for his frail constitution. If I cannot be certain he is safe in your school under your care he will not be attending.

Sighing, Albus agreed to the demands. Soon enough all the details were hammered out. Now it was Harry's turn for questions.

"Sir, how will I be collecting the supplies I require for school?" Harry questioned.

"I'll be sending a representative from the school, young Harry," Dumbledore clarified brightly.

"And how will I be financing these expenditures," inquired the astute young wizard.

"Why, your parents were rather wealthy, young Harry. Your father's family are Wizarding aristocracy, landed gentry. You have a trust vault at Gringott's, the Wizarding bank. When you reach your majority you will stand to inherit quite a lot of wealth," informed Dumbledore genially.

"If I stand to inherit all this money, why are my Aunt and Uncle struggling to pay their house note and finding creative ways to pay my medical bills. Aunt takes in mending and alteration work when she's able and Uncle is always working overtime. They will be unable to afford to send Dudley to Smelting's," Harry demanded brusquely.

Petunia froze in her ministrations, not realizing Harry had heard the adults worry about their financial troubles. She couldn't find a job away from home because Harry needed her to be on standby in case he had a panic attack and needed to come home, or had one of his numerous appointments or treatments.

Dumbledore stupidly opened and closed his mouth a few times. How could he have not thought of this before? He had put this poor family in this predicament.

"I apologize that no stipend has been made for your family, Harry. We can set one up right away with back payments as well," Dumbledore answered contritely. Maybe young Dudley would be able to obtain a quality education now.

"Out of curiosity, do your medical authorities understand why Harry is afflicted with this PPD and anxiety?" Albus questioned curiously.

"Not even physicians can be 100% certain, however, it's believed that PPD is caused by early childhood experiences of physical or emotional trauma. The night Harry's parents were murdered was very traumatic for him. His mother was killed in front of him. He still has night terrors. Then the murderer tried to kill him as well, leaving him permanently scarred. They believe it may have affected his brain chemistry. Then his long stay overnight left out in the cold in November on our front step didn't help. When I found him in the morning he was blue from the cold, I thought he was dead. He was so cold his homeostasis was thrown off and he was going into shock. We immediately took him to the ER and they told us a few more hours left in the elements and he would have died. As it was for a time he hadn't gotten enough oxygenated blood to his brain and that may have something to do with it as well," Petunia informed gravely, still shaken up over how close she had come to losing her last link to Lily.

"He had to spend a month in ICU, then get therapy afterward. He had milestone delays and had to relearn a lot of skills Lily had said he already knew. His immune system was very weak for a long time," the motherly aunt said as she doted on the boy.

Dumbledore closed his eyes in shame. All of his plotting, his "For the Greater Good", almost cost this boy his life. He may have contributed to his poor mental health status. He had placed a warming charm, but it obviously hadn't lasted long at all. He took his leave to go wallow in his guilt and plan his atonement.

The next day Petunia received a call from the bank. They had received a transfer of six hundred thousand pounds. When Harry went to Gringott's she needed to find out the pound to galleon conversion rates. If this was their back pay, she couldn't even imagine.

They could afford to pay for Dudley's entire Smelting's education as well as University. They could afford to send Harry to the rather expensive immersion therapy retreat his counselor recommended. They could pay off the house note and build a rec room for the boys. Harry could afford some of the experimental treatments their insurance wouldn't cover.

Petunia started crying from relief. She has been so stressed for so long. Like so many other caregivers she had been strong for her family, and had worn herself out caring and worrying for them. Now if they could just get Harry through the next 7 years of Hogwarts unscathed...


End file.
